Good fortune the Extended version
by raisecain
Summary: Exactly what the title says. This is a second version of the original in which I have attempted and am attempting to expand on points, fluff things out with descriptions, maybe get Fleur involved more at the start etc. Very A/U Will contain mature themes, possibly triggers I don't really know. Fair warning: Not for sensitive souls. Will also have few author notes (hopefully).


**A/N So I'm gonna make another attempt at this, hopefully it'll fare somewhat better. All input very much appreciated and anyone interested in beta-ing let me know.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Prologue <strong>

"Fleur, ma petite!" The call came only slightly muffled through, however many doors. _Seven_, she decided mentally having plenty of experience even at the young and relatively tender age of nine.

"_Coming Maman!" _she sent ahead to buy herself a small amount of time. Hastily, she put aside her sketchbook and pencil, taking care not to smudge the drawing she was currently working on as she placed a glassine page on top before closing the book and placing both book and drawing implement in the drawer.

Shoes already on Fleur flew out the door, down the corridor, two flights of stairs into the elaborate and ornate entrance hall of Delacour manor. In her opinion manor was dreadfully misleading and she would be more inclined to refer to it as a castle, however for modesty's sake (false though she may feel it to be), she refrained from voicing such an opinion to any.

Her mother was standing looking regal as ever. A perfectly manicured eyebrow, rose in a perfect arc, in a perfect look of irritation. However being Appoline, she did not have the luxury of being able to outright say such a thing. _Not to me anyway_, she told herself trying not to think about when she did.

Being a Delacour she wasn't permitted to quail under the look, not to slouch or try and make herself smaller much as she would like to and her natural instincts recommended. Instead she stood tall, looked her mother in the eye and addressed her directly, "_I apologise Maman, I had to finish something off." _

No facial twitch or quirk gave away her response but the look in her eye flashed from anger to a closed off in rapid succession. Any but her and her sire would have missed the tell-tale signs of her ire's impending violent release. Only in her mind did Fleur think to pity the unfortunate soul that it would affect.

Appoline merely gave a cool yet sharp nod of the head in acknowledgment. Fleur could have deflated in relief, after all, she had only done what she had been taught in terms of completion and it's standard. Sometimes though like in this instance it was a cause of hesitance for her, to decide if the same rules applied to situations involving her mother.

"_Come, we have much to do," _if the offered hand was more rigid than comfortingly pliant Fleur didn't notice, or at least pretended not to anyway. With that she felt the imaginary hook, jerking her from behind her navel. It had taken time but the young Fleur had grown accustomed to it and its association with apparition.

...

Living on a large patch of land in the French countryside, young Fleur found the sights, smells and sounds of the larger cities overwhelming and captivating. It was all too easy to get distracted by everything around from the well-kept shop fronts in the central business district to the more dilapidated and run down areas that housed the poor and the homeless. It was this that caused her to be separated from her mother and half-absentmindedly wander the streets herself. Or it may have been fate.

Who knows? Whatever you called it, how could it possibly be that unintentionally she stumbled upon or more accurately was nearly bowled over by a small body that barrelled into her. Eyebrows furrowed and lip curled in what would become, in later years her signature scowl.

Thinking perhaps it was an animal of some sort, she went to shove it off, _probably a cat knowing my luck, _she thought bitterly to herself. Only she would be 'lucky' enough to have a run in with a natural enemy while on a routine shopping trip and market browse (it being Friday).

However before Fleur even gathered the breath, strength and indignation that would be required to deal with the unwelcome pest, the weight was gone. She could see a hand being reached out. Her scowl only deepened as she impulsively looked up to chastise the human that had so rudely and abruptly knocked the air from her lungs. Snapping her head up she lifted her chin, fully intending and prepared to haughtily berate the urchin, when once again she found she couldn't breathe. This time however it was because of the two beautiful pools of milk chocolate that gazed back at her.

...

A young girl stood in the kitchen of an orphanage of the edge of the very same minor French town that Fleur happened to be visiting that day. Call it fate or luck- good or bad, it remained to be seen. Nevertheless, Hermione was peeling carrots over a crude wooden bowl that currently sat on a worn, badly pock marked yet sturdy table. As she distractedly blew a number of strands of hair away from her eyes she heard voices starting to rise.

Rolling her eyes at her own foolishness in believing that the piece would be kept she rapidly finished off the current vegetable before pushing her sleeves further up her arms. The normal buzz of moderately loud conversation and movement that was the norm in the four roomed 'house'- in her mind shack was more appropriate considering it's precarious build- had reached a crescendo.

Immediately she took off sprinting the ten strides it took to reach the shared dormitory of sorts just in time to come face to face with what would pass for the oaf of the establishment. Somehow despite the meagre amounts of food that each child was provided with, Pierre had succeeded in outgrowing them all, to a slightly taller than average teenager.

He was at this particular moment, using this unfortunate fact to take advantage over one of the runts. The wretched thing was suspended in the air, much farther from the ground than they were used to given Pierre's gangly limbs. Of course it would be precisely when she walked in that he would turns those dark eyes on her. Were it not for the fact that his hair was a sandy brown, streaked with blonde she would have said his appearance matched his temperament.

"_And so the Brit arrives. Your lot always are sticking their noses in other people's business aren't you?" _He sneered at Hermione quickly having lost interest in his captive. The runt crumpled to the floor before scrambling back to the furthest corner of the dorm from the door, and in extension, from Pierre and Hermione.

Any other child when faced with someone more than twice their age and damn near twice their height, would likely have grovelled before a seemingly more capable adversary, however Hermione never had any patience for Pierre's antics. Sure she was small but that only meant she could out maneuveor him and being lighter and fast on her toes meant she had an advantage when it came to speed. Not to mention her rather sharp and calculating mind that endeared her to none.

Shooting Pierre her most innocent smile she responded in a sickeningly sweet tone, like that of over ripe fruit, "_But of course Pierre! Although I may not have to intrude nearly so much were my nose as long as yours." _Hermione made sure to batten her eyelids for effect. Although large in build his wit wasn't in short supply despite many people's preconceptions, it didn't take long for his eyes to flash in rage and a fight broke out.

Any observer would be hard pressed to keep track of the scuffle with the speed of blows landed and the degree of damage done, concealed by entangled limbs. When Hermione finally managed to disengage herself she noted with pride that his nose likely broken and spewing blood while he cradled his crotch gingerly.

Her grin was feral as her injuries were minor in comparison. Once she sent him the smug smile she ran out of the dorm and out of the orphanage, maybe she could hide until she knew at least one of the sisters would have returned from their devotions. Her mind distracted she found herself barrelling into another body and knocking said person to the ground.

She found herself half lifted, half pushed off the unknown entity, scowl set in stony features and words prepared for what she presumed to be one of the street rats that refused to stay put in a home, her distaste for them sour in her mouth. In quick succession however she realized a number of things; One- no urchin would have managed such a feat of physical strength given they had little enough to scavenge, Two- when she hastily shook her scraggly chestnut hair (that she was sure was matted with dirt) from her face, she caught sight of one of the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.

The girl propped up on her elbows seemed to emit an ethereal grace and beauty, had she not known any better Hermione would have assumed that it was an angel. The scowl melted from her face before her companion could observe it replaced by furrowed brows, more so in annoyance at herself than anything else. Her eyes remained locked with those clear blue spheres that appeared to reflect back the sky on the cheeriest Autumn day.

This led to her feeling abnormally self-conscious. Knowing she must be a sight in her ill-fitting and tattered clothing that hung like a sack off her malnourished and diminutive frame, coupled with her pale complexion, hollowed cheeks and nest of hair. That's before you even considered the injuries she had sustained holding her own against Pierre, the black eye, busted lip and obvious lack of good posture due to a particularly vicious blow she had sustained to her ribs.

Hermione felt an over-whelming sense of shame erupt within her. She had no idea where it came from but she felt for some reason that she would do anything not to disappoint this girl… who she suddenly realised was still inclined slightly below her.

Attempting to take some initiative and take control of the situation she extended a hand to the blonde. Thankfully the girl accepted although their eyes remained locked even when Hermione had drawn her to her feet. A flash of surprise appeared in the blue eyes that also held indications of a fierce temperament, rather similar to hers and intelligence. The surprise (she presumed) originated from her physical ability.

Without noticing words subconsciously began to flow from her mouth, "_Sorry Miss, I didn't mean to knock you over, please accept my sincerest apologies," _a short bow accompanied her words in a gesture of respect. Clearly the beauty was one of upper class birth and breeding, an air of refinement emanated from within her very being.

"_Hey!"_ The young girl's head snapped around eye's narrowing in fierce determination and the taller boy heading towards them. _'What do you think you're doing London? I'm not done with you!_' The boy's speech was rough and Hermione smirked again at the obvious discomfort he was in. She took the most comfort in his high pitched voice.

Before she could react beyond her self-satisfaction and internal praise she had been hauled away and to the wall of the orphanage. She had caught a glimpse of the grimy faces pressed up against the thin glass. This gave her courage, which she then proceeded to ball up in the pit of her stomach as she spat at him.

It was surprisingly on target and mixed with the other fluids marring and running down his face, including the blood that still flowed in rivulets from his nose. The look on Pierre's face almost made Hermione feel better about the shock and fear that was present on the girl that she had knocked over. The key word here being almost.

Again that irrational feeling of shame swelled up inside of her, suddenly the murderous glare Pierre was sporting was no longer amusing or satisfactory. Willing herself not to think of the consequences she felt she would face with the girl whose name she so desperately desired, she once more gathered her courage before screwing her eyes shut.

Hopefully Pierre would at least have the decency to give her a quick death.

...

Fleur was captivated. A sense of empowerment overtook her as those wells of molten chocolate held her gaze. Never before had she experienced such depths in human eyes. Intelligence sparked there along with a wildness which matched the sharpness of the creature's wit in terms of presence while maintaining a balance.

Both intellect and emotion were present in abundance. It made sense really. A fiery temperament was visible in the burning pools. After what felt to a young Fleur an eternity, she successfully broke eye contact. It unnerved her to stop.

Standing there was a young girl who looked all the younger due to her ill-fitting and tattered clothing, paired with hollow cheeks from obvious malnourishment likely resulting in her diminutive size. Despite her small stature and undoubtedly scrawny build the girl had a presence about her. A commanding air that didn't befit her status.

She found this both curious and concerning. Had her mother been there she would have immediately started on her for attempting to rise above her station. This, Fleur observed only in the passing. Despite the knowledge she held, which was considerable in comparison to most teenagers, this had little impact on her. The relevance was lost. Her inspection continued.

Brown hair that bore a tint of auburn lay tousled atop the girls head. A very light smattering of freckles were visible on the girls cheeks. They were light enough to be unnoticeable for the most part. Especially under the layers of grime that seemed to have built on top of one another over the years spent in

Hastily the girl shook her scraggly mousey brown hair out of her face revealing a pale complexion. It remained a tousled mass on top of her head. The girl's efforts appeared futile as clumps, not just strands resumed their original positions- likely blocking her visage. She was sure that the reason for this was poverty. It appeared that grime had built up over years to become a permanent fixture.

Fleur was partly grateful as it gave her further opportunity to ogle the vision before her. At the same time a great rage ran through her at the hardships she had suffered. Surprisingly this didn't knock her off kilter at all.

The ferocity of the girl's expression, on the other hand, did shock her- although it rapidly softened into curiosity and.. something else. What that something was remained to be seen however. Fleur wasn't really given an opportunity to think on it as she extended a hand to help Fleur on to her feet. _'Sorry Miss, I didn't mean to knock you over.'_

Fleur found it to be a rather chivalrous gesture. As their hands touched it felt as though a current had passed through the points of contact. She could see her own curiosity at the discovery reflected in that of the other half in this exchange. The girl calmed noticeably, cheeks slightly rosy as though in embarrassment. A rush of heat and empowerment flowed through her as the girl averted her eyes slightly.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realised she had yet to release her hand. However something compelled her to tighten her grasp.

Although the girl's apology was clearly genuine, it was hard to miss the fact that it lacked her full focus. Something was distracting her.

Still caught up in the moment, Fleur only noticed the sharp turning of the girls head and the light brush of her thumb over her own knuckles. The reassuring gesture caught her off guard. She was so shocked that it took a while to register the fact that another's hand no longer held her own.

_"Fleur! Why did you go off without me?" _The reprimand was sharp but had little effect on Fleur. At that moment her ears may as well have been made from cloth. That was the extent to which she understood her mother, her alpha.

She perceived her alright but only at the most basic level, not even turning to greet or offer a sign of deference and respect as was her duty. Unforgiveable and often punishable by one. Her attention was transfixed on the fierce girl. She couldn't be older than six yet still she stood up to the lanky lad. In terms of build they were similar unfortunately she was dwarfed by him so the advantage was thrown.

Fleur worried her bottom lip, prepared to step in for this girl who had so profound an effect upon her. Unconsciously she took as step forward, only to falter, a chill running down her spine, recoiling when she heard her mother's voice. Immediately her back went ramrod straight her movements mechanical as she turned towards her. The fear not hidden though it should be.

Fortunately it appeared her mother was not particularly paying attention to her at that very moment. Rather a number of things occurred in quick succession leading her to be standing more than slightly shocked in what appeared to be a kitchen. Her eyes bounced off the scarred surface of the work surfaces and grimy paint on the walls.

She was currently attempting to distract herself as her mother worked to clean up the girl and rouse her from her state. A sharp gasp caught her attention as Apolline quickly reassured the girl in a low voice before she left to inform the nuns of her recovery. Fleur barely caught the order thrown back over her shoulder directed at herself.

Fleur tentatively offered her hand to the girl who graciously took it. Once again Fleur saw the spark of curiosity flare brightly in those emotive eyes as an undeniable feeling of.. something significant ran through them both. If Fleur weren't so occupied with wanting to learn more about the angelic being she would have been ashamed of her sudden lack of vocabulary.

_'My name is Fleur Delacour,'_ she introduced herself. The other brushed her lips against Fleurs' knuckles in yet another old timey gesture of good will and gentlemanly behaviour, leading her to blush prettily, _'It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Fleur, my name is Hermione.' _

_..._

Hermione was glad to have had the chance to finally learn the older girl's name, she was fairly sure she was older anyway. She was even more glad to have had someone with her as the girl's mum, Apolline, finished speaking with Sister Marissa and turned her sights on her. Although she appreciated it, she knew that she wouldn't have had Fleur not asked.

_Asked probably isn't the right word, _she thought chancing a glance sideways at the blonde before squeezing her hand reassuringly and stroking it. She noted the girls mixed reaction to the news that she would be going home with her. Surprise, worry, happiness. None of the disgust that was so blatantly obvious radiating from Fleur's mother. Hermione couldn't help but feel a certain relief at this.

A change in atmosphere alerted her to the fact that they were no longer making their way down the street.

_Strange. _

Of course exhaustion quickly took hold when Fleur rushed the two into what she presumed must be the girl's bed chamber. She couldn't see much of it in the darkness but below her feet the carpet was plush and warm. No protest crossed her lips when she was dragged onto what she was sure must be a real bad. Normally she would have fought, normally she would have inquired, however such was the nature of her tiredness and strange ease that she fell asleep as she was surrounded by warmth and comfort.

**A/U: For explanations on bolds, italics etc. See authors note of my first chapter of, "Good Fortune is a Double Edged Sword". Sorry about the extension but I didn't feel right letting the prologue drag beyond the first chapter so I decided to fit it in here.**


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